I notice two different sounds
of running water as I walk
beside the Inver.
Determined river rapids calling
to the mountains. Boasting of
their watery strength. “Gurgle
and grind till you fall. We
will drink you all” says a white crested
ferment; patient as time.
Nearby a burn moves into
the River Inver creating softer
sounds of murmuring water;
whispering to the frogs and
water beetles, “come and dine
in my Japanese garden.”
